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Drake Hardwick scowled, totally out of his element. Give him an assault rifle or an M9 and a target, the more hostile the better, he was fine. Hell, he could make do for weeks on a ship at sea or in the middle of a desert alone. Anything would be better than being surrounded by this Pepto Bismol shit.
Tyler had called it some other name but it was still a God-awful pink.
The elegant outdoor gathering area of the Lodge of the Edgington Creek Resort in Eagleview, Montana had been overrun with pink flowers and wedding decorations. The log cabin exterior had somehow grown roses from every nook and cranny.
Luckily, all the femininity of the setting was counterbalanced by the testosterone of the military men in it. Navy SEALs crowded the area, from one end of the decorative fieldstone courtyard to the other, some in service dress and others in plain clothes, depending upon whether or not they'd been in the wedding. He hadn't been one of the lucky ones, so he wore what he considered dress-up, a white button-up shirt, gray bow tie and black vest that gave him room to move. If he'd gone to the wedding, he would have had a new suit jacket fitted, but he, as well of most of the other grunts out here, had opted to come to the reception and leave the wedding itself for closer family.
Tension in his gut ratcheted up as he looked out over the sea of heads around him. The noise was a cacophony echoing in his head. It was almost wall-to-wall people and he needed air, space. Any one of these people could have an IED on them or a weapon. He started moving toward the far end of the courtyard.
Somebody bumped into his elbow so he stepped out of the flow of traffic, but almost immediately somebody else bumped into him, hard enough to slosh his beer out of the bottle. Cursing, he held it away from himself, hoping to miss his vest and an embarrassingly wet front, then turned to glare at whoever had knocked into him.
"Oh, excuse me, I am so sorry. It's a little crowded here."
Drake blinked, the harsh words he'd been about to snap falling away at the sound of her husky voice. A tallish woman in a slim sleeveless dress of Pepto color grinned up at him, wild honey-blond hair whisping around her face. She rested a slim hand on his arm.
"I'll get you a new beer," she promised. "I'm Isobel. My friends call me Izzy."
She thrust out a hand and he responded automatically. Her palm was tiny and incredibly soft. Softer than anything he'd felt in a while. He jerked his hand away and shook his head. "Don't worry about the beer. It was my fault we collided. Drake," he added as an after thought, then had to wonder why he'd given her his real name. He was Zero to everyone else here.
Her bright green gaze lingered on his face and skull-trimmed head before drifting down his brows, cheeks, chin, nose before they settled on his lips for a long second. The woman blinked and her gaze flitted down the rest of his body. Zero felt a surge of interest. The woman wasn't the type that normally drew him, but something about her... He suddenly realized that the panicked tightness in his throat he had been feeling had completely faded away as he’d looked at her, talked to her.
"Oh," she looked a little nonplussed as she met his gaze again, her cheeks flushing. “No, it was totally my fault. I came with a date but I’m kind of hiding from him now,” she grinned conspiratorially.
Before he could pursue the conversation, a woman tugged on her hand from the opposite side. Izzy turned away with a laugh, wiggling her fingers at him as she left.
Scowling even harder at the strange incident he turned away from the retreating woman. There was too much traffic here. He needed to find a corner and bide his time before he could politely leave. Most of the guests had arrived, and apparently the bridesmaids and groomsmen had arrived, judging by all the pink clothing, but they were waiting for Tyler and Kiko. He'd heard something about official photos of the married couple. Weaving through a line of chairs he headed toward the far corner of the rustic patio, where an abandoned mini bar sat dark. Before he could make it there, though, one of his team waved him over.
There were a lot of men out here to celebrate the marriage of one of their own. At least a hundred and fifty. It had been a huge turnout considering how far away they were from the ocean. Montana didn't have any body of water big enough for a SEAL he didn't think. Tyler Cutler had only been on SEAL Team 8 for less than four years but he was a good man and everyone seemed to respect him. It was why they'd turned out in such numbers tonight. Well, that and the free beer.
Drake looked around the venue. The resort probably wasn't cheap, and it looked like Kiko’s father had pulled out all the stops. He was a plastic surgeon from Los Angeles and had to be footing this monstrous bill. Drake seriously doubted Tyler and Kiko had the kind of cash the resort demanded for these things. Rich and some famous people, obviously clients of the doctor, wandered the crowds, smiling benevolently for the wandering photographers. Drake shook his head, wondering at the eclectic mix of people.
The open-air courtyard outside the resort was perfect for their group. Bars at either end with a dance floor and band in the middle. There was a raised dais for the wedding party. A breeze blew in from the large pond to the east, but it was warm and fragrant. They had been warned to bring cool weather gear, because nights in Montana could turn frigid in a blink.
Logan Connaught shoved one of the white, padded folding chairs in his direction when he stopped at the group.
"Have a seat, Zero. Tell us about the blond you just splashed beer on. Is she as hot as she looks from here?"
Drake frowned at the incorrect details but lowered himself into the chair. It wasn’t as crowded here. He could socialize for a few minutes but he didn't want to talk about the intriguing blond. "I didn't spill beer on her."
Logan looked a little crestfallen. "Damn. I thought you had. Is she with someone?"
He lifted one brow. "I talked to her for, literally, two seconds before she was pulled away. We didn't get around to her dating history, but yes, I think she’s with someone."
The younger man looked even more put out with him. "She's beautiful. You should have grabbed her."
Obviously the liquor was having an effect already. "I'm sure she would have appreciated that."
“I think she showed up with a dark-haired guy,” Cody put in helpfully. “But it didn’t seem like they were getting along.”
Despite himself, he glanced through the crowd, looking for naturally curly blond hair, but he didn't see the woman. As the conversation degenerated around him, Drake leaned back and nursed what was left of his beer. Bear shoved a second one into his hand and he was more than happy to take it.
As he listened to the rowdy conversation and dating advice swirling around him, smiling slightly where he needed to, he wondered if they heard how crazy they sounded. Most of the SEALs around him were younger than he by many years. Drake was creeping up on his fourteenth year, a long time in a hard-hitting job like his. Gabe Carter, a friend of his, had left the team following his battle buddy's suicide to join Lost and Found, a detective agency out of Denver, and there had been shuffling in the ranks. Drake had taken Carter's place as lead coxswain deployed via the USS Carl Vinson. It was exciting and a real ego-stroker, this job, but he was beginning to get tired. More than once he'd wondered about calling Carter up and hinting around about a change of pace. He knew Carter was here at the reception. He’d have to find him and have a word.
Drake was one of the oldest operators in the teams. Most of the kids looked up to him and his experience but there were a few that definitely just wanted to push him out and take his spot.
Drake grinned slightly. He found he wasn't struggling against the ambitious ones as much as he used to. Maybe Gabe Carter and Max Tate, another SEAL who had left for the Denver agency, had the right idea in getting out early before their bodies started to betray them.
